


Aedificavimus amorem perenniorem aere

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 20:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15541938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: Magnus and Alexander had always known that they could never have what they wanted: each other. In Rome, patricians didn't fall for slaves. Still, Magnus hoped that maybe... But hopes, in Rome, could die fast.





	Aedificavimus amorem perenniorem aere

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, the famous Ancient Rome AU! I've planned this for a while but after tweeting [this](https://twitter.com/evilkeshi/status/1014583262365220864), I couldn't wait to write anymore. The title of this story means "We have built a love more lasting than bronze", inspired by the Latin poet Horace who said "I have built a monument more lasting than bronze, higher than the Pyramids' regal structures, that no consuming rain, no wild north wind, can destroy." He was speaking of his poetry... Very humble fellow, as you can see (I love him!)
> 
> I've put notes at the bottom of the story explaining some of the historical/cultural elements mentioned throughout the story but even if you don't interrupt your reading to check those, I think the story is pretty understandable! I hope you'll enjoy it!

  


Early morning. Silence covered the wise city of Athens like soft and comfortable linen sheets did a sleeping body, and as he walked down the cobbled streets of Pláka, Magnus relished the quietness of the city. He was enjoying himself through this simple activity and he let his steps wander and guide him through these narrow streets that were still unknown to him four weeks ago.

Helios hadn't risen up the horizon yet and only thin strokes of orange and pinkish hues marred the sky so far, so the young man revelled into the tranquil morning while he could - before the streets bustled with slaves shopping for their masters' meals, philosophers trying to get their ideas across the thick skulls of their followers, and Jupiter only knew who else would roam these streets in a few hours. (He should say Zeus, he reminded himself: it would not be the first time someone raised a brow at his use of the Latin names of the gods in this Greek city.)

Magnus reached the edges of the agora and from his spot, as he lifted his head only slightly, he caught sight of the Acropolis and the splendid Parthenon. Rome may be the _Patria_ , the place where his heart beat, but Athens was something else and he knew he would miss the city and its many hidden treasures once he'd taken the boat back to Brindisi and then, travelled all the way back to Rome. He only looked forward to his return because he would see Alexander again, even though he also dreaded the reunion - which he could blame on Athens, actually.

He had come to study, nothing more. People in Rome said that philosophy had been brought to life here, in this city full of wonders and beaten by the sun, yet Magnus knew by now that Plato hadn't been the first, not even Socrates, but that philosophers had come from beyond Athens' haven, bearers of explanations about the nature of the world, time, and concepts of destiny or ways to avoid pain, until Socrates had shaken it all up with one sentence: _I only know that I know nothing_.

It had spurred on many youthful men, eager to understand the master, and four hundred years after Socrates' passing, young men like Magnus still came to Athens in order to learn from the best philosophers. He hadn't just been taught philosophy, though...

Magnus heaved a sigh and sat down next to Andronicus' _horologion_ , glancing at the wind deities sculpted on the upper part of the tower, praying that they would grant him a safe travel back to Rome. Maybe he should also pray Aphrodite and Eros so that he wouldn't lose his mind once he'd see Alexander again...

Philosophy wasn't the only thing Magnus had learned in Athens. George had been the one giving the lessons, a man a bit older than him, attractive and kind, and Magnus had quickly discovered the pleasures between men. George had initiated him, gently, patiently, with the same care with which he made sure his followers understood his classes, and there was a deep affection between them now, although Magnus knew nothing more would come out of their relation. He didn't want more anyway, not when Alexander was waiting for him in Rome - calling Rome the place where his heart beat took a whole other dimension then.

As far as he could remember, Alexander had always been his side. Born the same year, one from a respectable _matrona_ and the other from one of the family's slaves, the boys had played together when they were toddlers - not matter how young they were though, they both already knew that they didn't have the same status. When they turned six, Magnus' father offered him Alexander as his personal slave; they weren't meant to be friends anymore but Alexander was even more stubborn than Magnus was and he had decided not to care about that, with the determination kids summoned whenever they thought the grown-ups were wrong.

"You are my best friend, Magnus," the young slave had told him back then, with his light Greek accent that he'd gotten from his parents' speech, "You will always be, no matter what."

Still, their friendship was different now, although still existent. It hadn't changed because Alexander served him - and served him well at that, with more devotion than Magnus felt he deserved - but they weren't kids anymore: they had turned seventeen the previous year, they'd become men, even though Magnus had been the only one to receive the _toga virilis_ , which was given only to citizens of age... And as a slave, Alexander didn't belong to the ranks of the citizens.

He was still a man though, a man with raw emotions and feelings that he was unable to hide, too honest and whole for that, and Magnus had seen the way Alexander had started to look at him - the same way Magnus tried _not_ to look at his friend.

He had tried, so hard, not to let his feelings overwhelm him, to ignore Alexander's longing gazes, and it had worked - until then. Neither of them had ever acted upon their desires, neither of them had given in to the tension they could feel, thick and heady, whenever they accidentally stared at each other for a bit too long.

Magnus hadn't wanted to give Alexander hopes that would end up crushed anyway: what could he promise to him, to a slave, as much as he hated to refer to his friend as that? They were separated by their respective status and Alexander himself knew that their story was doomed from the start... Not to mention that Magnus, as a proper citizen and to respect his father's wish of introducing him to the political life of Rome, would have to get married soon. Alexander was aware of this harsh reality, which was probably why he had never said anything to Magnus, settling for warm smiles and tender looks instead, but it seemed like his heart was breaking a little more with every other second he had to satisfy himself with that.

Magnus' own heart fared no better, although he was more skilled at hiding such a fact than Alexander was. However, Athens and his experience with George might thoroughly change that situation if he wasn't careful enough... The Greek city hadn't made him realise how he felt for Alexander, as he knew perfectly well how in love he was with his friend, but it had done worse: it made him want to do something about these feelings, to _hope_.

Magnus didn't want to ruin his or Alexander's life so he didn't know if it was such a good thing. He guessed only time would tell.

  


  


Magnus took a deep breath as soon as he stepped inside his family's _domus_ in Rome, inhaling the familiar scent of home, the smell of the flowers in the garden, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the fresh rain falling in the _impluvium_ at the centre of the atrium. He would probably miss Athens' sunlight in a few hours, if he went out to greet some friends, but right now he could only enjoy this moment. He was back, he was home... and he wasn't seeing the one person he wanted to see the most.

Chuckling at his own ridiculousness, Magnus walked across the atrium, glanced inside some of the smaller rooms on the sides and when he didn't find Alexander, he went under the peristyle and into the garden, knowing that his friend liked to contemplate the bushes and flowers under the rain, and the way some of these rose as if to drink more of Jupiter's tears, some others bending their head to protect their fertile core.

Alexander saw him before he did: Magnus only caught sight of something, someone, moving fast on his side and the next thing he knew, his friend had wrapped him in his arms.

"Magnus!" the young man exclaimed near his ear, before he stepped back and grinned, "Welcome back! I missed you so much!"

Magnus wasn't able to do much beside huffing a laugh and nodding. He, too, had missed Alexander... As well as his beautiful eyes, his smile that warmed him up from the inside, the way he made him feel lighter just by being there, in front of him, with his happiness at seeing him again. Who, in their right mind, could have resisted such a man? He was everything anyone could have wished for, both attractive and smart, kind and determined, humble and confident. Too many men or women would have grown proud of such beauty, if it was theirs, and arrogant, sneering at other people they considered less than them. Not Alexander though... Magnus knew it wasn't just because he was a slave and could not allow himself the same liberties as free people: it just wasn't his nature.

"How was Athens?" Alexander asked, overexcited. "Tell me everything!"

"It was... amazing," Magnus answered truthfully, although he hesitated a bit before continuing.

He didn't want to make too many positive comments about the city, for fear of frustrating Alexander and twisting the knife in his heart. He knew how much his friend wanted to discover the city, how much he had looked forward to going with Magnus, until his mother fell ill and he had to stay in Rome to serve in her place.

Alexander was of Greek descent but he was born in Rome and had never seen the lands of his parents. He had been ecstatic when Asmodeus had told his son that he was leaving in order to study philosophy in Athens and should take his slave as his travelling companion - frankly, Alexander had been happier about it than Magnus himself, hence his terrible sadness when he'd been forced to stay home, on top of his concern for his mother.

"You should have seen the Parthenon," Magnus eventually added, aware that Alexander's curiosity wouldn't be sated with that simple _amazing_. "It is absolutely overwhelming. There are so many people in Athens, they come from all the empire to sell fabrics and spices and ceramics and... The philosophers! The theatres, the tragedies! Oh, and the food! The olives! I swear they don't taste the same around here."

"Your father imports them directly from Greece, though," Alexander pointed out, lifting his eyebrows.

"Still," Magnus insisted, "It's not the same. They taste way better when you eat them in the streets of Athens!"

Alexander raised his hands in surrender and Magnus kept talking, sharing anecdotes of his life during the previous month, explaining how beautiful the Caryatides looked, how talented the actors of tragedies were and why it was so compelling to watch those, but he kept quiet on his experience with George. Not out of guilt, because he didn't feel like his two nights with his philosophy master had been a mistake; except for respect, admiration and an affection that didn't equal his love for Alexander, no deep feelings had been involved during these nights.

Besides, at the time, he hadn't known whether or not he would do something about his feelings for his friend... And to be honest, Magnus still wasn't certain of what he should do. If he did try something though, if it worked, if Alexander and he could love each other... Magnus preferred to have a bit of experience regarding the physical aspect of a relationship, should his partner want that, rather than hurt him - or himself - due to his ignorance.

"I'm glad you got to see all of this," Alexander told him, sincere in his happiness for his friend, even though Magnus could hear his regret at missing out on it.

"You'll get to see Athens too," he promised, squeezing Alexander's shoulder. "I'll go back some day and you'll come with me. You'll live to see the lands of your ancestors."

"Thank you," the other man answered, eyes too bright and voice too brittle, and Magnus wished he could comfort him, probably would have, if Alexander hadn't looked up and flashed him that special gaze, both soft and full of intensity, that only he knew how to make.

Magnus was awfully weak in front of such a look, feeling his knees lose their strength, his heart beat faster, and his mouth dry up suddenly as his eyes settled on Alexander's lips. Should he? Should he take that risk, even though he knew what disastrous consequences could follow such boldness?

He hesitated too long and eventually, the decision was taken out of his hands as a voice, deceivingly soft, echoed on Magnus' left.

"Well, well, well. Isn't that my beautiful son?"

Alexander stepped back, mortified to have been seen standing so close to Magnus, who stared as his father made his way to them, slowly, leaning on a cane. Asmodeus' bad leg and his strange gait didn't lessen his powerful aura at all; if anything, it made him look even more threatening, in a bizarre way that Magnus didn't understand.

"I don't see my son for two whole months and when he returns, he seeks first the company of his favourite slave," Asmodeus said, making Magnus frown since he couldn't really tell whether it was a mere statement or an accusation.

"I apologise, _domine_ ," Alexander answered softly, staring at his feet, not daring to look at the master of the house, "I was the one who held your son back."

Ah, Alexander... He had obviously taken Asmodeus' words for a blame and had immediately felt the urge to help his young master by saying it was his own fault and not Magnus', even though Asmodeus was right: he hadn't wanted to see anyone but his friend first. They would need to talk about Alexander's propensity to take the blame in his place later, though.

"Alec," Magnus' father added without looking at the slave, calling him by the nickname most Romans used to address him - for _Alexander_ sounded like too noble a name for a slave. "Go to the kitchens at once and tell Maia to hasten the preparations for tonight's banquet."

Alexander departed without another word, leaving his friend alone with his father, standing in awkward silence - for Magnus at least, although Asmodeus was probably amused, as he often was whenever he saw that his son wasn't feeling too comfortable in his presence.

"Athens was great," he valiantly started when his father didn't say anything, "My philosophy master was..."

"I know all about that already," Asmodeus interrupted him, "I received your letters."

"Oh. Well, forgive me then, for _seeking first the company of my favourite slave_ ," Magnus spat back his father's previous words, "since you already know everything about my journey anyway."

His father shrugged, with his usual disinterested expression that irked Magnus beyond measure. His mother had been the only person able to keep Asmodeus entertained and she had also been the one to keep both her husband and her son in check, so that they didn't end up fighting whenever they disagreed on something.

Since her passing though, Magnus and his father argued more and more: they didn't know how to work together and eventually, they'd stopped trying to. It didn't help that every time they spoke, Asmodeus started with a spiteful, snide comment. This day had been no exception and, as it turned out, Magnus' father was far from done.

"That boy is in love with you," he said out of the blue, surprising his son, "but you knew that already, didn't you?"

"I don't see how Alexander's feelings concern you," the young man answered carefully, ignoring the question, hoping his father wasn't so observant as to have noticed that these feelings weren't one-sided.

"Oh, rest assured, they don't," Asmodeus shot back with a hushed laugh. "I just think you should fuck that boy, get it over with, so he can focus back on his tasks. He's pining for you like a girl for a successful gladiator. You should show him that he has nothing to hope for."

Magnus stayed quiet, too bewildered by his father's words to react to them, and he realised what a mistake his silence had been when he saw the glimmer of sudden, unhealthy interest in Asmodeus' eyes.

"He _does_ have nothing to hope for from you, doesn't he?" his father asked, taking a step forward to loom over Magnus threateningly, intimidating and forcing his son to utter a weak _no_.

"He... doesn't," the younger man mumbled, choosing to deliver the answer Asmodeus was expecting instead of fighting with him again - not if it could all fall back on Alexander's shoulders. "Don't worry."

"Good," Asmodeus murmured, staring his son up and down. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to Alec now, would we?"

"No," Magnus mumbled, glancing at his feet both to avoid his father's gaze and to hide his anger at the implicit threat, "We wouldn't."

"Good," he repeated. "A Roman doesn't fall for slaves. Nor freed men. I warn you, Magnus: if I see anything I don't like... I'll free him. Understood?"

Magnus nodded, not trusting his voice to come out firm enough. After one last calculating glare, his father finally turned around and left, his threats still hanging in the air, and Magnus suddenly regretted his return to Rome. Athens had made him hope for nearly one full month but in a few minutes and with some harsh words, Asmodeus had ruined it all.

His threat of freeing Alexander was especially painful to hear for Magnus, who knew that his friend's current social status would change for a better one, although it wasn't without traps either. Alexander would be free - but he wouldn't be a citizen, wouldn't be allowed to vote, wouldn't have the same rights as a freeborn Roman. His children would though, if he ever got any, and judging by his attraction to Magnus, he wouldn't conceive with a woman any time soon.

Speaking of which, Alexander's affection for his friend was exactly the point on which Asmodeus intended to play. Magnus and his father both knew how Romans viewed sexual relations between males: they were mocked by the poets and right-thinking orators like Cicero and only relations between citizens and slaves or prostitutes were tolerated... At least, as long as the slave was the one giving pleasure to his master and not the other way around.

If anything was to happen between Alexander and he though, Magnus didn't plan on following the proper Roman way. He had learned from George that sex was a moment of sharing, of giving freely, of taking pleasure from his partner's own delight, and he wouldn't force Alexander to anything.

Wasn't it cruel from Asmodeus? He had told Magnus to sleep with his slave, that he'd accept such a situation - except if feelings were involved. They were already, definitively so, and Magnus wouldn't be naive enough to actually think that his father had believed him when he'd denied having such feelings in his heart. Asmodeus also had to know that Magnus would let Alexander take him if he so wanted, something the master of the house would never allow.

He had a reputation to uphold, people he wanted to introduce his son to, important people who would never negotiate or do business with Asmodeus if they heard that Magnus let a slave, not even a _man_ , enjoy his body.

Hence the threat of freeing Alexander... Sex between free men, whether born or turned, couldn't be, at all, for it meant that one of them had to give himself to the other. Unthinkable for free men. Intolerable.

Magnus heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, thinking of Athens and her more simpler ways: relationships between males of equal status weren't frowned upon, they were known and even taken as models among the elites. Hadn't Alcibiades loved Socrates? Hadn't he felt a sincere love for the philosopher, he who was always the first to call Socrates ugly but also the first to praise his mind and his intelligence, which he'd fallen in love with? Was there any relation more genuine than the one Alexander the Great had shared with his lover and general Hephaestion?

Rome asked of her men to show their virility in all circumstances and considered that they were losing their masculinity if they chose to offer themselves to someone of lesser status. In Athens, however, Magnus had entered George's bed with a desire to learn, drawn to him by their common interest in philosophy and erudition, and he'd walked out in the morning feeling more mature, more man, than he could ever feel if he respected the Roman way.

What choice did he have, though? Asmodeus would watch them like a hawk, ready to do what was needed in order to keep his son's reputation pristine. Magnus shouldn't even have hoped for anything with Alexander. He should have known better. If only Alexander could fall for someone else, at least he wouldn't have to bear the pain of the distance Magnus would be forced to maintain between them...

"Please, Venus, joy of men and gods alike," he whispered, raising his eyes to the grey, rainy sky as he prayed. "Please, just make Alexander happy. I don't care if I can't be part of it, I only wish for his happiness."

The goddess didn't answer but the rain suddenly stopped.

  


  


Magnus had to wait until the following morning to see Alexander again and be able to talk to him. His friend was about to leave to go to the market on Maia's command to buy fresh fruits and maybe some fish, when Magnus stormed in the atrium, his hair a mess and his tunic askew - a subtle smile graced the slave's lips at that but he pretended not to see it.

"I'm coming with you," he said, earning himself a mere nod.

That silent nod rang a bell of alarm in Magnus' head but he didn't comment on it as they left the house and ventured into the streets of Rome at this early hour. It wasn't raining anymore, the sky was bluer than Magnus had expected and the sun was already shining on the roofs of several _insulae_ while a light breeze kept the air cool. All in all, that was a great day to be awake and Alexander's silence was way abnormal.

They hadn't seen each other for two months. His friend should have been ecstatic to have him by his side for a market adventure, he should have been telling him about the last trends and rumours in Rome but... Nothing. Alexander looked grumpy and sad, Magnus couldn't find the reason for it and he wasn't sure that the young man would welcome any question.

He had been fine the previous day, hadn't he? They had hugged each other, Alexander had been curious about his travels, but then... During dinner, he had seemed quieter and looked as if he'd retreated within himself. It was hard to draw conclusions from it though, because at that time, Alexander had been serving him as well as Asmodeus and the friends he'd invited over to celebrate his son's return. In such circumstances, the young slave wasn't allowed to speak as freely as he did whenever he and Magnus were alone.

The point was, between these two moments, Asmodeus had sneaked up on them and then spat his venom into Magnus' face. What if...

"You heard what my father and I said yesterday, didn't you?" he suddenly asked his friend as they neared the forum, understanding that he was right when he saw Alexander's whole body stiffen.

"I did," he grumbled, not even looking at him.

Magnus knew him too well to take it as anger or resentment though: Alexander was just trying to protect his heart. How bruised was it already? In how many pieces had it shattered when the boy had heard Magnus say that he had nothing to hope for?

"You have to know," he started slowly, hoping that Alexander would actually listen and understand, "that I only told my father what he wanted to hear. I didn't mean..."

"I know," Alexander interrupted him, before his eyes widened as he realised what he'd just done.

Magnus had been gone too long. Two months ago, his friend wouldn't have blinked at such an interruption but if Alexander had only served Asmodeus while he was away... The older man had probably expected of _Alec_ the proper behaviour of obedient slaves and not that of a friend like Magnus did.

"I know," Alexander repeated when he remembered exactly what he and Magnus were, remembered that he didn't have to fear a punishment for speaking up, "It doesn't change this simple truth though... We can't be together."

Ouch. Magnus remained silent as they kept walking, heading for the stands of the fishermen who'd come to Rome from Ostia to sell their fish, but his head was starting to hurt from all the thinking. Alexander hadn't even needed to clarify that he did indeed love Magnus, aware that the Roman knew about that already, just like he hadn't asked Magnus to tell _him_. He knew as well. Wasn't it terrible, to be in love and know that these feelings were returned, only to be powerless, unable to do anything about it?

What if they tried, though? Could they somehow make Asmodeus believe that they didn't love each other? No... Alexander's face revealed too much of what he thought and felt, at every second of his existence. Just like in this moment, as he glanced at someone and suddenly looked alarmed, then cautious and, eventually, deeply annoyed. Following his gaze, Magnus quickly understood the reason for his friend's exasperation and he frowned upon realising that the one person he really didn't want to come across in Rome was headed his way.

"Magnus!" a shorter man exclaimed before he stopped in front of him, his smile as wide as his eyes were narrowed when he glanced at Alexander. "And his loyal dog, of course."

"Lorenzo," Magnus groaned, more as a warning than as a greeting.

Lorenzo was one of the six hundred senators of Rome, along with Asmodeus, but he had paid to be elected and get where he was now. Needless to say that Magnus didn't have much respect for him and his ways. Still, he avoided the man as much as he could, knowing that his money could get him in trouble if he ever went too far in their confrontations. He had never really intended to make himself an enemy out of Lorenzo but that man was too infuriating to just accept all his decisions in the city.

"You should be careful, my friend," Lorenzo said, ignoring Magnus' openly hostile gaze and gesturing at the young man by his side, "You shouldn't be seen around people like this one too often. I know your father has great plans for you but one might wonder if you're still fit for the political sphere."

"You should probably leave these matters to my father," Magnus answered calmly, trying to placate Alexander with his even voice at the same time, since his friend looked like he was boiling with anger on his behalf. "Besides, Alexander's company is far better than that of some powerful and rich Romans we know."

Lorenzo let out a mirthless laugh, understanding all too well Magnus' insinuations but choosing not to react to those, as usual - however, he didn't leave either and Magnus was seriously starting to consider being completely uncivil and turning around to be on his merry way with Alexander.

"If you'll excuse us," Magnus said, already attempting to go around the senator, "Alexander and I have food to buy."

"See, that's exactly what I was saying," Lorenzo chuckled, stepping in front of Magnus and forcing him to back away. "Buying food with your slave... You're turning into one of them."

"My master is just making sure I don't make any mistake," Alexander interfered before Magnus could yell at Lorenzo, "I bought the wrong kind of figs last time."

"Cute," the senator sneered, "Your little slave is trying to defend you, Magnus. You taught him well. I wonder how you did that... Or do I? With a pretty face and lips like those, it's easy to see. Did you fuck him to make him loyal?"

Lorenzo's voice was rising more and more as he spoke and people had started to gather around the three men. That was the senator's intent, Magnus realised, to stir up a scandal in the streets of Rome: even when they weren't true, rumours were the most powerful weapons in the city and could ruin a man's life. Magnus wouldn't give him the satisfaction of taking the bait though, he was going to remain perfectly calm through all of this and...

"Or did he fuck you?" Lorenzo added with excitement, certain that he had found the right way to throw Magnus off balance, "Did you give yourself to a _slave_ , Magnus?"

Shocked whispers echoed around them but the young man didn't answer, glaring silently at Lorenzo, although it didn't escape his notice that Alexander was growing fidgety, glancing at the crowd thickening on all sides. If Magnus could stall for time, maybe the legionaries of the urban cohorts would come to put some order back to the forum and then Alexander and he would discreetly slip away and...

"Admit it, Magnus," Lorenzo shouted again, "Tell us how you've spread your legs for that slave, how you became his little b..."

Lorenzo never managed to get one more word out: it happened fast and still, Magnus caught every detail of the scene with acute precision. He felt the way Alexander tensed next to him, saw him surge forward in anger, and he suddenly understood what was about to come down.

"Alexander, no!"

Too late. Alexander punched Lorenzo in the face with so much strength that the impact sent the senator toppling to the ground, in the middle of the bystanders' cries, and he cupped his jaw as he looked up in stunned awe.

"You!" he seethed, "You filthy..."

Lorenzo was interrupted again, this time by the shouts of people trying to reach the scene, and Magnus paled. He had hoped the legionaries would arrive and they had, except that now was the worst timing to do so. Alexander couldn't run, too many people had seen him anyway, but if the urban cohort caught him...

"What is happening here?" one of the soldiers asked when he reached them, his eyes already glancing from Alexander to Lorenzo and coming to dangerous conclusions. "Senator, are you alright?"

The soldier extended his hand to help Lorenzo back to his feet but the man slapped it away and stood up on his own, with great difficulty due to his tangled toga. He eventually managed to stand straight and point at Alexander - Magnus closed his eyes briefly, his heart falling at the bottom of his stomach, the sight of his friend livid with rage burning behind his eyelids. _Venus_ , he prayed, _mother of the Roman line, please protect my love_.

"This slave attacked me!" Lorenzo yelled, "I command you to arrest him and bring him to the Tullianum!"

"No!" Magnus exclaimed, stepping between Alexander and the soldier, the name of the prison awaking his worst fears, for people usually died in the Tullianum. "He was defending me!"

The legionaries glanced at one another, hesitating, weighing their possibilities. Magnus knew that it didn't bode well for Alexander, who kept quiet behind him. He was a slave who'd attacked a wealthy senator and Magnus wasn't sure that the fact that Alexander had been trying to defend his master's honour would count.

"Come with us, slave," the soldier who seemed to be in charge eventually decided, "It is not our place to choose the punishment so there shall be a trial. In the meantime, we arrest you for public disturbance."

"What about Senator Lorenzo?!" Magnus exclaimed, scandalised and refusing to move from his spot, "You aren't arresting _him_ , even though he started all of this!"

The legionaries had the decency to look somewhat uncomfortable at the accusation and Magnus knew why, as well as the reason why they wouldn't blame Lorenzo for anything in this matter. He was rich and influent... He could play a role in whether these soldiers stayed in Rome near their families or left to fight the Gauls or worse, to battle in Britain, far in the North, in order to defeat the barbarians. They would rather arrest Alexander alone.

" _Domine_..." Alexander called softly, using the term Magnus hated the most to hear his friend say in order to address him. "It's okay. I knew about the consequences."

To Magnus' utmost horror, Alexander stepped around him to join the legionaries, who looked relieved that the slave hadn't protested much. His friend looked resigned but not desperate about his situation, ready to face whatever would come his way with dignity and strength of mind. His attitude reminded Magnus of an anecdote George had shared with him in Athens, about that slave who was being beaten and had warned his master, very calmly and evenly, that his leg was about to break under the man's repeated assaults - it had, eventually, yet the slave hadn't screamed once. Magnus didn't want to see Alexander endure so much suffering with the same stoicism, no matter how brave he would seem.

"I'll get you out of there, you hear me?" he yelled even as the cohort took his friend away under Lorenzo's satisfied eyes, while two soldiers held him back, probably for fear of some desperate action to keep his slave with him. "I promise, Alexander!"

"Magnus, Magnus..." the senator chanted once Alexander was out of sight, shaking his head in amusement and gesturing at the legionaries to let go of the young man, "You shouldn't make promises you won't be able to keep."

"I will," Magnus growled, uncaring of the people still standing around them and watching with unhealthy curiosity, "I don't care if I have to play your game and use my father's name to get him out of the Tullianum. If I have to, I will."

The senator snorted, not impressed by Magnus' self-confidence, and he turned his back on the young man to leave the forum, his misdeed finally accomplished. Magnus expected some kind of last word before Lorenzo left though, knowing all too well that the man loved to hear himself talk and wouldn't let their discussion end on Magnus' side, and he wasn't disappointed. Instead, he was horrified.

"Your father?" Lorenzo repeated in the middle of his laughter. "Magnus, please, think. Do you really believe your father would help you to get Alec back?"

On these sinister words, Lorenzo walked away, his shoulders still shaking with laughter, while Magnus remained frozen in place, the senator's parting sentence echoing in his overheating mind as he suddenly put two and two together... And then he ran.

Magnus ran through the streets, jumped above a dog who was taking a nap under the sun, nearly fell over when he bumped into a donkey carrying water at the intersection of two streets, and he didn't stop, not before he stormed inside his house.

"Father!" he yelled as soon as he stepped in the atrium, not caring of who could hear him, neighbours or slaves, too mad for that, "Father!"

How coincidental could it be that Lorenzo had attacked Alexander and him on the same points Asmodeus had, just the previous day? Had Magnus misunderstood the senator's last words? No, he didn't think so. His father was a cunning one, Magnus wouldn't put it past him to have asked Lorenzo a favour... To get rid of Alexander for him.

What a fool he had been, thinking that he could outsmart his father and pretend that he didn't have feelings for Alexander! He should have known... No matter his clever plans, Asmodeus would always have a slier one under his sleeve.

"Magnus, his father stated when he arrived from his office and into the atrium, "What seems to be the problem?"

"You know what is!" Magnus shouted, striding towards Asmodeus, "Lorenzo! You asked him, didn't you? You asked him to get Alexander arrested! To accuse him of... of..."

Magnus lost his words then, but his father understood his meaning anyway - how could he not, when he had formed the same accusations before? Asmodeus didn't react to the announcement of Alexander's arrest, didn't show any surprise, and that was answer enough for his son.

"He never did anything wrong in his life," Magnus added, "You know that, father! So why? Why did you ask Lorenzo to do such a thing?"

"Why indeed?" Asmodeus repeated with a smirk, "Why would you think that I played a part in this, that I would want to make public such dishonouring accusations? Why risk our family's reputation, Magnus?"

Those were fair points but the young man would not be swayed. Asmodeus was manipulating him, again, and this time he would not fall into that trap: Lorenzo hadn't done this on his own. What meant Alexander for him? Nothing, he was just one more slave to Rome. Only Asmodeus could be bothered by the young slave and his relation to his only son and heir.

"You know that our reputation wouldn't be so badly stained," Magnus seethed, "You know you're powerful enough to make these whispers die down in due time, once Alexander has been dead for years, once I make my debuts in politics. You know this won't matter in a few years, as long as he's not there anymore to remind Rome of what we could have had."

Every word was painful to say, as thoughts of Alexander bleeding out in a horrid cell filled his mind, but this wasn't a fight Magnus was willing to lose. In front of him, his father smiled.

"Very good, son," Asmodeus eventually said. "See? You have the right mind for this world. You will go far."

"I don't want to," Magnus immediately protested. "You could give me the Empire, I wouldn't want it, not if Alexander doesn't get to live in it. Please, father..."

He was ready to beg Asmodeus for his help. For Alexander, he would do it, he would do anything, if it meant that he could save his friend. He, too, could try to manipulate his father.

"If you've ever loved me," he started, "if you've ever loved my mother... You will help me. You remember how much she liked Alexander when we were children, don't you? What would she say, if she knew what you have done to us, to him?"

Magnus didn't see it coming but in two seconds, his father had clenched his hand around his throat and pushed him against the closest wall. He was suffocating but he didn't try to break free of his father's crushing grip: he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Love..." Asmodeus spat, "You know nothing about that. If you did, you would understand why I'm doing this. I'm doing this for you, Magnus, I'm doing what you are too weak to do yourself! Do you really think Alec will help you get where you deserve to be? You were made for power, my son, do you hear me? Power!"

With that, he threw Magnus to the floor, leaving his son gasping for air at his feet, before he turned around and disappeared back into his office. The young man stayed still on the floor for a few more seconds, trying to catch his breath and calm the trembling of his body.

It had been stupid to confront his father. He wouldn't help him, that much was clear, but Magnus wouldn't admit defeat so easily. He would defend Alexander himself during his trial, which promised to be fairly short: slaves' testimonies weren't taken into account anyway, so Lorenzo's and his own intervention would be the only ones that could determine his friend's future.

Standing up carefully, making sure that he hadn't broken anything in his fall against the hard marble of the floor, Magnus glanced around himself one last time and then, he left the house. Asmodeus didn't know it yet but he had just lost his only son.

  


  


Alexander's trial brought together more people than Magnus would have imagined although, knowing that Lorenzo would speak, maybe that wasn't so surprising. The senator explained what had happened first, since he was the one who had been wronged, and while Magnus listened, he also looked at Alexander and tried to assess the damage.

One day and one night in the Tullianum didn't seem to have too badly marked him but the young man looked pale, too pale, and Magnus was certain that he hadn't been fed. It was obvious to him, who knew Alexander, that he was scared and fighting with himself not to show it. Still, when he felt Magnus' insistent gaze upon him, the young man turned his head and a tiny smile lit up his face as he caught sight of his friend. Magnus wanted to tell him that it would be alright, that he had nothing to fear, but he couldn't say too much before he'd spoken to the judges.

Among them, Magnus recognised a few who were known to refuse corruption, a rarity in Rome these days, and he hoped that Lorenzo's wealth had not managed to completely ruin their morals and dignity. If it had, then Alexander was probably lost already, especially since the senator took care of highlighting how savagely the slave had attacked him, seemingly for no reason at all. When he sat back, finishing his diatribe with the request of a death sentence, he looked satisfied of himself - Magnus would have loved to punch that smirk off his face.

"Does anyone wish to speak on behalf of the slave?" one of the judges asked, addressing the small crowd.

"I do," Magnus immediately said, jumping to his feet.

"You are the slave's owner, correct?" the judge asked again.

"I am," he answered, a sour expression settling onto his face.

The young man had to refrain from pointing out that the _slave_ had a name and that he should be addressed by said name: this was a whole other matter and as much as Magnus would have loved to demand that more respect was shown to slaves, he knew that he couldn't risk losing this case due to his big mouth. He had to focus on Alexander before anything or anyone else.

Taking a deep breath, praying all the gods that he wasn't going to fail at this, Magnus slowly started.

"First," he said, "I would like to point out that Senator Lorenzo conveniently _forgot_ to mention the reason why my slave attacked him. He came to us yesterday morning on the forum with no other intent than bothering us. Alexander only reacted the way he did because of the spiteful and defaming comments that were made against me by the senator. A senator, I might add, who is supposed to speak for us and protect us, citizens of Rome, but what trust can we put in such a man when he enjoys creating chaos in our streets?"

Whispers were heard at that but Magnus didn't have time to pay attention to what they were saying. He just hoped some were on his side.

"Second," he continued, his heart beating fast, "Let it be noted that Alexander didn't oppose the slightest resistance to the urban cohort that arrested him, which could be confirmed by the legionaries. Surely this matters, doesn't it? We're not in the situation of a rebellious slave scheming against Rome and her representatives, therefore death is not an appropriate punishment."

"What would you suggest, then?" another judge asked, making Magnus hope that perhaps he could do this.

"The senator and I could find a financial arrangement that satisfies the both of us," he suggested, knowing that Lorenzo was always seduced by the prospect of more money coming his way.

However, this time, Lorenzo wasn't so easily entranced, not that Magnus wondered why.

"I don't want your money!" the man yelled for what was probably the first time in his life, proof if needed that Asmodeus was the puppeteer behind this: if it had been personal, Lorenzo would have satisfied himself with whatever advantageous financial deal Magnus would have offered him. "I want the slave dead!"

"A death sentence would better fit a slave who betrays his master and stabs him in the back!" Magnus protested, not daring to look at his friend in case he couldn't bend the judges' wills, feeling like he was pushed toward the edge of a cliff. "Alexander did nothing of the sort and was only trying to defend me!"

The judges started to mutter between themselves, debating, while louder whispers rose all around them, and Magnus finally glanced at Alexander. His wide eyes were staring right back, conveying too many feelings that the young man knew exactly how to interpret. _Thank you for helping, I love you, don't worry, I'm afraid, I'll be fine, I love you, I love you, I love you_.

"We have decided," the first judge fortunately declared before Magnus could start crying, at least until he heard the actual sentence, "that the slave is to take part in the gladiators games this week, starting from tomorrow. If the slave survives three days of fights, his punishment will be considered over. If he dies, well... The slave's fate lies between his own hands now."

The room was drowned into uproar then, as everyone made their own comments, either happy about the decision or not, but Magnus didn't care. Right then, he didn't even care about the sentence itself, no matter how hard it would hit him later, but he was already thinking about the consequences. Once Alexander won - because there was no if, there couldn't be - he would go back to Magnus but Asmodeus would still be there and he would try something against him again, maybe in a more direct way this time. There was only one solution to make sure that Alexander stayed out of immediate danger.

"One more thing!" he yelled, catching the judges' attention just in time, "If he survives these three days, I want him freed. Understood? Alexander shall be completely free from any master and free to go wherever he pleases."

"That is your call to make, as his owner," the judge answered with a nod. "Let it be noted."

  


  


It was late when Magnus was finally allowed to see Alexander, in a tiny and dark room that looked more like a cell underneath the Coliseum. His friend scrambled to his feet, standing up from where he had been sitting on the floor, his head resting on his bent knees, and Magnus was glad that the guard who had led him down there was gone, because he ran towards Alexander and finally burst into tears as he hugged him.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed into Alexander's chest, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Shhhh," his friend whispered, rubbing his back with more care and tenderness than Magnus probably deserved right then. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"Are you kidding?" Magnus asked, sniffling, lifting his head to look at Alexander, "You are here because of me!"

"I'm still alive thanks to you," the other man gently nuanced, using his thumbs to dry Magnus' tears. "And if we're looking for the real culprit in this mess, I think Lorenzo fits."

"No..." Magnus whispered, "It is all my father's fault! Lorenzo is just his puppet... And now you're here. Alexander, if you d..."

"I'm not dying here," he interrupted him before he could finish.

Magnus wanted to believe him. He wanted to, so badly, but how could he when Alexander would be up against professional gladiators, warriors who had been doing this for far longer than he would ever? How could he fight and survive, when he had almost never carried or used a sword?

"How?" Magnus whispered, aware that he sounded pitiful, that he _was_ , crying when Alexander was the one in danger but also the one trying to comfort him - their roles should have been reversed.

"I'll fight," the young slave answered simply. "Do you remember when we were kids? Lucian taught you how to wield a sword..."

"And you were my partner," Magnus finished for him, suddenly recalling these times, happier times, when his mother was alive and sat next to Alexander's so they could watch their sons carefully battle with each other.

This seemed to have happened a lifetime ago though. It was impossible for Alexander to still remember all the moves Lucian had taught them! He had not trained, growing up, and his strength could certainly not rival that of real gladiators. He wasn't going to make it, Magnus suddenly realised, his friend was just pretending for his sake, so that he wouldn't worry, but how could Alexander think that he would ever stop caring about him?

Tightening his hold around Alexander's body, Magnus willed himself to remember this moment, to draw comfort from it as well as to offer some peace to Alexander, for the dark days they would have to face. He could feel a heartbeat, calm but giving out a sad vibe, or maybe he was just imagining it, against his own chest. Alexander's breath was warm against his neck and Magnus squeezed his eyes shut, not ready to say goodbye to this man, his friend, his love.

"I can't lose you," he whispered.

"You won't," Alexander promised him on the same hushed tone, before he lifted Magnus' head, his fingertips pushing under his chin, and coaxed his friend into staring at him. "You won't, Magnus, you hear me?"

The young man nodded, a bit too weakly perhaps, because Alexander cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, unaware of the way Magnus' heart stopped beating for one blissful second at that sweet action.

"Do you know why my mother called me Alexander?" he asked, suddenly.

"N... No? Because she liked it?" Magnus suggested, taken aback and unable to think properly.

"That too," the other man agreed with a quiet laugh, "Mainly, she chose that name because of Alexander the Great. She hoped it would help me to accomplish great things, in spite of being born a slave. I'm not going to die in this arena, Magnus."

The latter nodded, a bit distractedly though, as his own name and Alexander's turned in his mind until he let out a brittle bark of laughter.

"What is it?" the young slave immediately worried.

"Magnus," he answered, pointing at himself, before he tapped his friend's heart, "Alexander. Magnus Alexander. Alexander the Great. Funny coincidence, don't you think?"

"I'll take it as a sign of the gods that we belong together," Alexander answered seriously, imprisoning Magnus' hand still on his chest in his own.

"Do we?" Magnus asked softly, just to hear Alexander say it again, to reassure his cracked heart, to believe that they could make it through this.

"Yes," came the whispered reply, followed by a gentle kiss across his knuckles, "We do."

Magnus didn't really know how, in that moment that lasted no longer than two seconds, they managed to understand each other without speaking. Yet, somehow, they did, and they both leaned in at the same time, eyes closing, gasping in surprise at the sensation they felt when their lips touched.

During all these years they had been friends, Magnus had learned Alexander, studying him like an artist would study the way the marble reacted under his fingers, noting every detail in his mind: his hazel eyes, his sincerity, his love for his mother, his straight back, even when he had to bend down.

Still, in spite of all these years, Magnus had never learned the softness of Alexander's lips, the warmth of his breath on his mouth, the way his kisses said _I love you_ in silence - for neither of them dared to pronounce these words, too scared of turning them into _last_ words - and he had never learned that Alexander's arms holding him close could feel like he was keeping two parts of the same soul together.

  


  


"For the last time, Magnus, quit squirming or Apollo help me, I'm going to throw you into this damned arena!"

Magnus froze at Ragnor's words, not so much impressed by his threat as sorry he was making his friend anxious. He couldn't help himself though: sitting next to Ragnor in the Coliseum, waiting for the first games to begin, the young man was shaking with nerves and kept wondering whether it was a good idea to have actually come to see Alexander fight. Part of his mind said yes, because it was better than stressing himself out at Ragnor's place, where he had spent the two previous nights, wondering what was happening inside the arena. Besides, he didn't want to let Alexander face his destiny on his own, although it wasn't like Magnus could fight by his side.

The other half of his brain screamed no, though. It was a disastrous idea because if it didn't turn out well for the young slave... Magnus knew he wouldn't survive witnessing Alexander die under his very eyes.

He dug his fingernails into his knees at the thought.

"I can't watch him die, Ragnor," he whispered, "I can't."

"You won't," his friend told him quietly, wrapping his arm around Magnus' shoulders to comfort him. "Have faith in him."

Oh, Magnus did. He just didn't trust Lorenzo, who had sponsored these games, and all the other gladiators or slaves who were in the same situation as Alexander. His only chance would be to strike some unexpected friendship with one of the others so that he could have at least one ally in this but even so, in the end, if they had to fight each other...

"It starts," Ragnor said.

Suddenly on alert, Magnus almost stood up to make sure that he could see Alexander when he entered the arena, but he didn't actually need to. His friend wasn't alone when he came in, more than a dozen of other men were walking by his side, but Magnus only had eyes for him. His gaze had been drawn to Alexander in spite of the distance, like a flower following the sun, and even though he was relieved to see him standing proud and not shaking with fear, his own heart nearly gave out.

"This won't be a fight," he murmured, more to himself than to be heard by Ragnor, "It will be an execution."

The other man didn't answer but he blanched too as he stared at the newcomers. None of them wore the smallest piece of body armour and they were all dressed in loincloths only, their chests glistening under the afternoon sun with the oil their handlers had spread all over their pectorals, and they weren't carrying any weapon. They were all slaves, Magnus decided then, because neither of them looked as muscular as gladiators usually did, nor did they seem to be having the time of their life. It explained their poor outfits too, especially compared to the actual gladiators who suddenly entered the arena by the opposite access.

Those were armed, with spears or swords depending on their role in these games, and they looked so much more at ease than the slaves in front of them! Of course they did, Magnus berated himself, they were almost certain to live after this... He was not so far from the truth while thinking this would be an execution: real, professional gladiators were expensive and their handlers didn't want to replace them too often, so it seldom happened that the fights ended with one of them dead. The slaves, on the other hand... They were in this arena to be punished - to be killed.

Most of them must have made some unforgivable mistake. Slept with their _dominus'_ wife. Plotted against their master - or worse, against Rome herself. Tried to run away. Alexander was probably the only one who was there because someone had seen him as a threat and had thus schemed against him. That person, Magnus' own father, certainly expected to see the young man die that afternoon, alongside those who had truly committed a crime.

To be brutally honest, the young man didn't think it would end up any other way than tragically, with the death of his own heart once Alexander would fall in the sand of the arena. His stomach was churning already and it only got worse when the gladiators saluted the sponsor, for it announced the beginning of the games - as well as the impending doom for every one of these slaves.

People were screaming all around Ragnor and him, exciting the fighters, encouraging them, asking for blood, and Magnus couldn't believe they were wishing for the death of men like them without even knowing what they had done - until he remembered that not all Romans considered these slaves as men. The Stoics did, unlike most of Rome's population, and the young man was probably one of the few people coming from patrician families to share these views.

Magnus hesitated to actually watch what would happen in the arena, completely torn apart, not wanting to witness Alexander's death but also unable to look away. He ended up watching through his fingers - but it didn't make him feel protected from that bloody reality in the slightest. A few slaves tried to run away as soon as the gladiators lurched at them and Magnus shook his head, knowing there was no way out of the arena while the fight wasn't over.

Alexander apparently knew it too, for he didn't try to follow the others in their attempted escape. He did, however, throw himself to the left when a tall blond man came at him with a _gladius_ after pushing his small shield to the side, probably not expecting the slave in front of him to put up a lot of resistance. The gladiator aimed for the head, and Magnus' heart rose in his throat as his friend swerved again, barely in time to avoid a new attack, this time reaching toward his chest. By the gods, he wasn't going to survive this any more than Alexander was...

"Magnus," Ragnor gritted between his teeth, "Let go of my hand, you're hurting me."

The young man didn't pay much attention to his friend because at that same moment, the unthinkable happened. Alexander was feinting on his left then on his right and his opponent seemed to have understood the pattern, because he suddenly jumped to the left before the slave could, clearly trying to precede him in order to hit him - except that Alexander had hoped for such a reaction.

Magnus was on his feet in a second. He almost yelped when Alexander skidded to a stop and used the momentary confusion of the gladiator to charge him, grabbing his arms before he could swing his sword at him, and he sent them both collapsing to the ground in a mess of limbs and metal.

"Sit down, you idiot!" Ragnor grumbled, tugging on the edge of Magnus' tunic to bring him back down to his seat before the spectators behind them could get too angry.

Magnus went willingly, too shocked to do anything else anyway, his heart hammering in his chest while Alexander rolled away from his opponent and left him there, jumping to his feet and putting some distance between them.

The gladiator wasn't dead, lucky enough not to have been wounded by his own blade, and Alexander didn't carry any weapon that could have made some damage. Their fall hadn't been dangerous so the warrior stood up again quickly, too quickly for Magnus' tastes, and he prayed to Mars that his friend would make it through.

It had started well - for him at least, while many other slaves were already lying dead in the reddish sand - but how long would Alexander be able to keep his energy to fight? More concerning, how long before he was forced to go for the kill? Gladiators weren't known for giving up easily and Alexander wasn't known for enjoying violence, so killing someone... Could he do that, if it meant saving his life?

Magnus didn't exactly want to find out. Well, he wanted Alexander to live, obviously, but he knew how much the young man would suffer in his heart if he had to take a life for his own. They weren't quite there yet, though.

The gladiator who had apparently chosen Alexander as his target picked up his round shield from the ground before he walked toward the young slave again. The tentativeness of his approach almost made Magnus smile, glad to see that he wouldn't underestimate Alexander this time around, but his joy didn't last.

Loud noises suddenly resounded through the arena: the sounds of iron doors opening with a _clang_ , followed by twin roars. A murmur of fright ran in the crowd, making its insidious way inside Magnus' heart and this time, not even Ragnor remained composed, not when two enormous lions had just entered the games.

"They are sending the beasts already?" he asked aloud, although he probably didn't expect any answer.

"The fights aren't even over yet," Magnus said, biting his nails, his eyes still focused on Alexander's silhouette, "They really want all the slaves dead, don't they?"

"And their own gladiators, as it seems," Ragnor added with a frown. "Look! None of them has the right gear for this kind of fight!"

That was true. The slaves were almost naked and completely defenceless, but even the gladiator who was fighting against Alexander didn't seem likely to overpower a lion. In fact, he had even stopped striding toward his opponent to focus on this new and far more dangerous threat, as one of the two lions was coming their way, eyes narrowed and fangs bared. Alexander quietly slipped behind the gladiator to use him as a shield, which was probably a clever decision, except that Magnus would have preferred him away from any and all fight.

"Look at these teeth!" he exclaimed, tugging on the hem of Ragnor's toga, "How do you survive one of those bites?"

"You don't," his friend merely whispered, which didn't sound very reassuring.

Worried beyond words, Magnus looked at Alexander again. His eyes widened when he realised that the blond gladiator was now talking to the slave, who was listening and nodding along to whatever the other man was saying... It was awful, to sit there while all the action was happening down in the arena, to be unable to do anything to help, unable to understand what was going on, what the gladiator was planning on doing with Alexander...

Until relief exploded in Magnus' heart when the blond man gave his shield to the slave, who accepted it with a grateful nod before he focused on the beast coming toward them. Mars had heard Magnus' prayer and he had answered it: Alexander and the gladiator had somehow decided to forge an alliance, at least long enough to stay alive during the fight against the lion.

And what a fight! Magnus thought his heart would stop, finally giving up, unable to stand so much pressure when Alexander offered himself as bait to the lion, his round shield barely hiding, not even protecting, his tall frame. The young man kicked the ground of the arena and threw sand into the lion's eyes, momentarily blinding him, but Magnus yelped in terror when the beast jumped and landed too close to his friend, forcing him to skip backward.

Magnus closed his eyes when Alexander tripped and fell in the sand, exposed to these terrible teeth. It was over.

A sudden roar rose from the crowd then, cheering, encouraging, but it wasn't addressed to the lion.

"Magnus!" Ragnor yelled, "Look, look, he's fine, he's alive!"

"What...?"

Feeling faint, Magnus opened his eyes again and immediately caught sight of Alexander, scrambling to his feet and away from the lion, that was now giving all of its attention to the gladiator. The tip of his short sword was tainted red with blood, blood that came from the flank of the beast, where a wide gash was clearly visible.

"He attacked the lion when it was about to eat Alexander!" Ragnor quickly explained, not glancing away from the arena where both men were now standing and teaming up to corner the beast. "Well done!"

"Well done?!" Magnus shrieked, "Ragnor, he's playing with Alexander's life!"

"He saved him though, didn't he? Your boy is alive, that's all that matters!"

Ragnor might have a point but still, Magnus would have preferred that Alexander wasn't the one running the chance to be torn apart by sharp fangs. He didn't lose any other piece from the fight, now watching with concentration; it took some more effort on the two men's part, every second ticking away impossibly slowly for Magnus, but they eventually managed to get the lion to step back, closer and closer to its den.

Another cut on the snout and a strong blow from the shield in its already bleeding side had turned the beast wary of the weapons and their wielders, until their joined forces finally got the lion to turn back and disappear through the doors it had come from, while the gladiator and the slave slipped through another opening under the applauses of the crowd, while the second lion feasted on the dead bodies of other slaves, not even interested in the gladiators still fighting in the arena.

Magnus nearly collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by relief and joy at the though that Alexander had made it. It was done. The first set of fights was over, Lorenzo was probably chocking on his wine in the middle of his fury, and Magnus felt too satisfied for his own good. It was only the beginning, after all... Getting lucky enough to keep a gladiator on his side once didn't mean that the remaining fights would be easier for Alexander.

"Come on," Ragnor enjoined him in a whisper, elbowing Magnus in the ribs, "Let's try to see your man."

 _Your man_. He liked that.

Magnus liked a little less the fact that they were denied the access inside the _Ludus magnus_ next to the Coliseum, where all the gladiators came back after their fights to eat and rest, or train. The short and bald man who guarded the door smirked when he caught Magnus' distress at the thought that Alexander would have to spend his first evening there alone, without the slightest comfort, while the other fighters would mock him for being a slave.

"The slave belongs to him," Ragnor interfered calmly, "Surely my friend can make sure the boy is okay and will be able to fight tomorrow as well, can't he?"

Magnus could have kissed Ragnor, no matter how much he hated it when Alexander was referenced as his property. Still, the man didn't budge.

"If you want to see any of the gladiators, you'll have to pay," he told them with a toothless smile. "Like everyone else."

By _everyone else_ , he obviously meant the rich ladies who paid for a night with a handsome, muscular gladiator to rock their world. Less often, men. Magnus couldn't do the same to enter... If it reached Lorenzo's or Asmodeus' ears, it would only worsen the situation: Magnus wouldn't put it past any of them to pay a gladiator inside the _Ludus magnus_ to hurt Alexander.

"Ragnor, we're leaving," he decided, turning around and ignoring the short man whose obnoxious laughter followed them as they walked away.

"What will you do?" his friend asked, "It's not like you to give up."

"I can't endanger Alexander more than I already have," Magnus explained, his hands curling into tight fists by his sides. "I can't pay my way inside and risk that Lorenzo or my father get proofs or twisted testimonies against us. The only possibility is tomorrow, underneath the arena, before the games start... It will be easier."

And if someone tried to stop him again... There would be blood spilled before the games could even begin.

  


  


Magnus' expression was probably frightening, threatening or anything else among the same lines, because no one dared to get in his way the next day when he strode into the corridors under the arena of the Coliseum, looking for Alexander. It helped that the place was bustling with people, busy bringing in shields, whips and torches indistinctively, tending to the animals or replacing some parts of the gladiators' gear, because he went unnoticed, only one more person wandering the corridors... Until he was forced to acknowledge the fact that he had no idea where to find Alexander.

Resigned, he chose to ask a lonely gladiator about his friend, hoping that he wouldn't find his question suspicious and wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone - and especially not to the guard from the previous night.

This man was tall, with blond hair, and for a second Magnus thought that he was the one Alexander had fought against (then _with_ ) before, but the short beard rising on his cheeks told him otherwise. He was drinking wine, pure instead of cut with water, and Magnus wondered if it was his own way to give himself courage or, perhaps, numbness to the looming pain.

"Hey," he called the gladiator, "Do you know where I can find Alexander?"

"Who?" the other answered in a groan, clearly thinking that he had better things to do than replying to strange questions.

"He's one of the slaves who fought yesterday..." Magnus said, managing to summon more patience than he thought himself capable of. "I wish to speak with him."

"Oh!" the man's face lit up, "You mean the Greek! Sure, he's getting his sword at the armoury."

Oh. So Alexander, now nicknamed _the Greek_ , would start the games with a weapon this time? That was an unexpected development, although Magnus wasn't complaining. It actually gave his friend a chance to survive on his own, without needing to start possibly rocky friendships with shady gladiators, and he would take it over a defenceless Alexander any time.

After thanking the gladiator, who just waved at him with a dismissive hand before going back to his wine, Magnus followed the sound of metal clanging against metal and it didn't take him long to reach the armoury, where Alexander was, indeed, choosing a sword. He wasn't alone so Magnus couldn't jump in his arms like he wanted to, but still he felt his heart settle down, only now realising how heavy it had been in his chest before he saw Alexander with his own eyes.

When his friend caught sight of him, a veil of worry was lifted off his face and Magnus barely registered that Alexander had moved, too lost in his contemplation of the young man to make sure that he wasn't injured. Almost without his notice, Alexander grabbed his wrist and dragged him outside, backing him up into the shadows of an arcade, far from anyone else, and then, then, Magnus reacted.

Alexander's grip on his sword went lax when Magnus grabbed the collar of his tunic within his two fists, shaking with impatience and want, and he brought his friend closer and closer to him, until the young man dipped and crashed his lips on Magnus'. The sword fell on the hard ground but neither of them spared it a glance, too caught up in each other, their hands fumbling and touching to make sure that it was real, that they were _there_ , together, and not lost in a dream.

Magnus almost let out a sob of relief as Alexander's arms circled his waist, keeping him close, embracing all of him, his mouth desperately searching for more of Magnus, peppering his face with kisses and going back, always, to his lips. He was alive. Magnus had known that, had seen him walk away from the arena, but he had feared the night, what could happen to his friend in the middle of the wolves' den - yet Alexander was standing there, right in front of him, a grin on his face, and Magnus allowed himself to hope that they could get over all these trying trials.

"What are you doing here?" Alexander eventually whispered once their lips parted long enough to let them speak.

"I needed to see you," Magnus answered, keeping his voice low as well. "I needed to make sure that you were okay..."

"I am, I promise," came Alexander's comforting reply, "You don't have to worry."

Magnus' eyebrows rose so high at these words that his friend chuckled, although not without a hint of apology. He knew that he couldn't fool Magnus: Alexander donned a tunic this time, which was better than the simple loincloth he had been wearing the previous day, but it wasn't enough to hide the bruises on his arms, his split knuckles dirty with dry blood, nor the way he favoured his right leg while standing.

"You're hurt," Magnus said, not asked.

"I was taken care of," his friend answered, aiming for reassuring once more. "Jace brought me to the healers."

"Who?"

"Jace," Alexander repeated with a small smile, "the gladiator I was up against yesterday. We sort of became allies, I think?"

"What kind of name is that?" Magnus wondered with his brows creased in reflexion, "It doesn't sound Latin."

"It's not," Alexander confirmed, "The other gladiators call him _Germanus_. He must come from the German provinces of the Empire."

Magnus nodded distractedly. It explained the fair hair... And the way the man had fought, both against Alexander and the lion: Germans and Gauls had the reputation of being great warriors - and excellent riders - and most legions these days included whole units of them. If such a man stayed on Alexander's side... Magnus would be glad. "He even gave me a few pointers for the upcoming games, so I'll be fine," Alexander added with a brave smile, although Magnus could see the cracks behind it.

Alexander had already faced death one too many times in the arena the previous day, he knew better by now than being absolutely confident in his survival, as much as it hurt to think that way. Still, Magnus smiled too, locking his fear for Alexander in his heart instead of letting it show on his face, because he didn't want to think of what would happen if his friend lost his motivation and his will to fight at the sight of his own turmoil.

A trumpet was blown somewhere above them, in the arena, and to Magnus it might as well have announced Pluto's arrival from the underworld.

"The games will start soon," Alexander told him softly, "I have to go..."

"Be careful," Magnus whispered, his voice dying as he spoke, his anxiety finally overwhelming him. "Please, Alexander..."

"I will," the young man said, picking up his sword, "Come here..."

One hand at the back of Magnus' head, Alexander pulled him in and slowly kissed his forehead, lingering for a few seconds, eyes closed, before he abruptly backed away. Magnus would never forget the look he gave him then, both desperate to come back and intense, eager to remember every single one of his features in case he didn't make it back.

"Good luck, Alexander..." Magnus whispered as he watched the man he loved turn around and leave.

  


  


Magnus felt like he was dying. It was too hot, the sand was rising in the air as the gladiators fought, drying in their throats as well as the spectators', and Alexander had come too close to being dangerously injured - or worse - too many times. It was driving him mad and even Ragnor's reassuring presence next to him couldn't do anything to help him calm down or...

Bam! Alexander was thrown to the ground when a gladiator charged him with his rectangular shield. He had fallen over and over again, always jumping back to his feet, but with less and less energy each time. The situation was growing more concerning by the minute and even though Jace had helped Alexander once or twice, he had his own battles to fight... He couldn't always watch over the little slave who had gotten himself into a mess too heavy for his shoulders to carry.

Magnus prayed that the fights would be over soon, while Alexander was still standing. Maybe, if he could get a good night of rest, he would fare better for the last day... The last day, the one that would perhaps reward all their hopes, the most gratifying. Probably the hardest, too. Not that it had been easy before but... Alexander wasn't used to deal with the kind of exhaustion that came with the job of gladiator. The blood spilled in the arena rendered the sand more slippery, each step less firm. Every second spent fighting was more tiring than the last and it showed now, as Alexander's movements grew slower, almost sluggish.

"By the gods!" Ragnor suddenly swore.

Magnus' throat was too dry to enable him to speak but if he had been able to, he would have said something along the same lines. It was bad enough that Alexander was tired and had barely been able to push his opponent toward another fighter to get himself two minutes of break, no, Fate seemed to take pleasure in throwing hardships his way.

This time, through a _retiarius_. Of all the gladiators, Magnus had always found the _retiarius_ the most impressive and the most difficult to beat. Armed with a trident and a net like that of a fisher, allowing him to attack from a distance, this _retiarius_ didn't offer Alexander any respite: in a practiced, smooth gesture, he tried to throw his net over the young slave, who stepped back just in time not to get tangled in it.

However, he wasn't quick enough to fully avoid the second assault and Magnus watched in horror as Alexander's sword was snatched out of his hand, caught by the net.

"No!" he exclaimed, his shout lost in the crowd's cheers of _retiarius, retiarius_ , "Run, please, run..."

Either Alexander was too stubborn for his own good or just unaware of how much danger he was in, he didn't do what any sensible person who didn't want to die would have done. He didn't run for his life, only jumped aside to get closer to one of the dead slaves whose body had not been taken away yet, and Magnus gasped when his friend grabbed the spear sticking out of the corpse, taking it out with a disgusting wet sound.

"At least your man is resourceful," Ragnor said, looking a bit green, "but he terribly lacks class."

"For the love of Jupiter," Magnus groaned, unable to appreciate Ragnor's efforts to make him smile, "This is not the proper time to joke! Alexander is..."

He was interrupted by the renewed screams of the spectators, except that this time, they weren't all saying the same word: some were chanting _retiarius_ like before but others, growing in number by the second, kept repeating _the Greek_.

"... lucky," Ragnor finished Magnus' sentence still hanging in the air.

Yes, Magnus was forced to admit to it: Alexander had gotten very lucky indeed. Turning his spear with a deft hand, the young man managed to push it through the thick threads of the net and pinned it to the ground, coaxing the _retiarius_ into letting go. The crowd roared as the gladiator backed down but Magnus wasn't relieved yet: the man wasn't defeated and while he was still standing, net or not, he would remain a danger for Alexander. He still had his trident.

And by the gods, he knew how to use it! The man attacked again, raising his weapon high and ready to impale Alexander on its prongs, and the slave only had the time to duck, not managing to free the spear from the ground it had bitten into.

"That's not good," Ragnor mumbled in worry as the young man was forced to step back to avoid the wide swipes of the trident.

"I know!" Magnus exclaimed, cold sweat running down his back underneath his tunic now that Alexander was, _yet again_ , defenceless.

The young man was stepping back, looking everywhere around for some sort of miracle, a discarded sword, Jace, a shield, anything, but there was nothing he could get his hands on. His steps wavered, exhaustion finally overwhelming him, and Magnus watched in horror as his friend fell backward in the sand.

"No!" he screamed in panic, jumping from his seat, "No, no, no, no... Stand up!"

It was too late. The _retiarius_ was on Alexander in a second and he immediately brought his trident down in a fast move, aiming straight for his victim's chest. In a desperate want to survive, the young man's hands surged up just in time to wrap themselves around the staff, stilling it right before the trident could bite into his flesh. He was panting, all his muscles tense, and even Magnus could see it from the tiers of seats, just like everyone else; it felt like the spectators were holding their breath together as Alexander fought the most important battle of all.

He lost it. The gladiator only had to kick the slave's arms away and Alexander's scream as the trident dug into his chest chilled Magnus to the depths of his heart. He didn't notice when Ragnor brought him into a hug, didn't realise that tears were rolling down his face, not when all he could see was Alexander's blood dripping from the teeth of the trident when the retiarius pulled it out.

He was ready to use it again, this time to ask Mercury to guide Alexander's soul through the underworld, but the slave weakly raised his hand before the _retiarius_ could move, halting the fight, allowing the spectators to decide whether he should live or die. The gladiator waited.

" _Mitte!_ " Magnus immediately yelled, hope suddenly rekindled in his heart, " _Mitte!_ Let him live!"

" _Mitte!_ " Ragnor repeated, before he turned to the people sitting or standing around them, and encouraged them all to echo his word, "Come on, the Greek fought well! _Mitte!_ "

Magnus' heart was beating so fast that he could hear his blood rush to his ears, loud but not loud enough to drown the growing screams of the audience asking for mercy on behalf of the slave lying at their feet in the sand. Magnus barely dared to look at the tribune where Lorenzo sat, as the sponsor of these games: the final call regarding Alexander's fate was his to make and no matter how pleased Asmodeus would be if his slave was killed during the games, Lorenzo knew that he should accept the people's decision if he wanted to stay in the Romans' good graces.

Magnus held his breath, praying, as the senator slowly stood up, maybe debating whether his deal with Asmodeus or winning the approval of Rome's people mattered more to him. Then, he put his right hand up to quieten the crowd, whose last screams abruptly died down.

" _Mitte!_ " the senator finally declared.

Acclamations of joy welcomed his announcement. Magnus couldn't believe it even as he was jostled by the cheering people around him and the decision truly sank in only when he saw two men enter the arena to take Alexander some place safe.

"I need to see him," he told Ragnor, not caring about his voice, high-pitched in his fright. "Now. I have to... I... He can't..."

"Breathe, Magnus," Ragnor enjoined him even as he followed him down the crowded stairs to leave the Coliseum, before he tried to comfort his friend. "He will be fine. I'm sure the trident didn't go that deep and the _Ludus magnus_ has the best healers around. You won't lose him."

Magnus nodded, although he didn't quite believe Ragnor. He knew, he felt in his heart, that Alexander was severely injured and he could even tell that Ragnor had little faith in his own words, that he was just trying to prevent Magnus from breaking down. The closer he got to the exit, the faster he was walking, until he was running in the street, heading for the _Ludus magnus_.

He tried not to think, to focus on his destination only, but still dark thoughts seeped in his mind: what if no one could do anything to save Alexander, what if he had to watch him die in his arms? Worse, what if he was too late? Magnus would never forgive himself if he wasn't there to hold Alexander's hand in his last moments.

Thankfully, these ideas vanished as soon as he found himself in front of the Ludus magnus, only to be replaced by desperate determination. It didn't even matter that the bald guard from the previous night was keeping the entrance again. Magnus was going to get inside one way or another.

"You again?" the man taunted him, "What did I tell you yesterday? Or maybe you gathered enough coins for one night, uh?"

"If I were you," Ragnor started behind Magnus, "I wouldn't mess with him right n..."

He was interrupted by the strangled yelp that came out of the guard's mouth as Magnus grabbed fistfuls of his tunic and slammed him in the nearest wall.

"Listen to me, you rat!" Magnus seethed, eyes narrowed, "You are going to let my friend and me in, you understand me? If you get in my way, I'll make sure that you continue your career somewhere in Britain."

"You... You can't do that!" the man squeaked, already looking terrified at the prospect of dealing with the dreaded people of Britain as well as the island's infamous rains.

"I can and I will," Magnus snarled, "My father is Asmodeus. You know that one word to him would be enough to end you."

"Alright, alright!" the guard gave in, even more frightened at the mention of Magnus' father, raising his hands in surrender. "You can go."

Magnus slowly unclenched his fingers, allowing the man to slump against the wall, and he didn't wait any longer before he entered the _Ludus magnus_. He tried to ignore the weight of it but still he could feel Ragnor's disapproving eyes on his back for his threats against that man who was, after all, only doing his job.

He decided not to defend himself, aware that such behaviour was nothing noble, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it... Not when this was all about Alexander. He wouldn't have asked his father to do anything to that guard though and Ragnor knew as much. Even if he had, Magnus was certain that Asmodeus wouldn't have lifted a single finger, given their recent fight. He was lucky the guard hadn't known about his disgrace yet.

Finding the rooms where the healers worked turned out to be quite simple for Magnus and Ragnor, who only had to follow the sounds of pain. There weren't that many, surprisingly enough: a lot of gladiators knew to ask the public for mercy before they got too severely injured and whole other lot was skilled enough to walk out of the arena mostly unscathed.

When they found Alexander's cell, a narrow room with a bed and nothing else, save for two guards at the entrance, Magnus felt his legs go weak. His wounds had been tended to already, as proved the bandages wrapped around his bare chest, but the blood dying his thin chest hair red all around the dressings was worrying all the same.

"Alexander," he whispered in shock, standing still on the threshold until Ragnor pushed him inside with one hand pressed on his lower back.

He absently noted that his friend was speaking with the guards outside, explaining that Magnus was the slave's master and was concerned about him, stalling and giving him as much time as he could to stay with Alexander.

The young man seemed too pale - or maybe the red across his chest made him appear worse than he truly looked - and he was clearly struggling to keep his eyes open and focused on Magnus. His fingers clenched convulsively onto nothing and he coughed, a hard sound that Magnus felt resonate inside him with terrible intensity.

Kneeling next to the bed, he gently took Alexander's hand in his own, kissing his palm.

"M... Magn..." the slave croaked out, before his voice failed him.

"I'm here," Magnus told him with a shaky smile, reaching out to push back the young man's sweaty bangs from his forehead.

He was burning.

"I'm here," Magnus repeated, blinking several times, his sight covered by a blurry veil as his eyelids stung at the corners. "I'm here, Alexander. Stay with me. Please, stay with me..."

"I..." Alexander started, hints of a smile fighting to stay on his lips, "I love y..."

"N... No," Magnus stammered and shook his head, his words coming as cut and bleeding as his heart, "No, A... Alexander. You can't t... tell me that now. You can't! You... You have to heal, you... Later. Later, when you're better and we're... happy. You'll tell me then, as many times as you want!"

The young man couldn't even nod but Magnus managed to read agreement as well as resignation in his hazel eyes. He leaned in to kiss Alexander's lips gently, their smoothness reassuring and oddly familiar, but his heart missed a beat when he pulled back.

Alexander's eyes were closed. He was breathing though and that was the only reason why Magnus didn't lose his mind right there and then, although he placed his right hand above the bandages, right across Alexander's heart, to make sure that it was still beating steadily. It wasn't, not really. The rhythm under his palm was weak and to Magnus, it almost felt like Alexander hesitated between paying Pluto an eternal visit and staying in Jupiter's kingdom.

"He is fighting to live," a voice slowly said behind Magnus, startling him.

Turning around, he found a blond man who looked kind of familiar and Magnus quickly realised that he was no other than the gladiator who had helped Alexander through his fights whenever he could.

"Jace, right?" he asked, a bit too warily maybe, because he also remembered that this man had almost killed Alexander on the first day.

The gladiator nodded, before he jerked his head toward the unconscious slave.

"He needs rest," he said, still slowly, as if he wasn't too used to speak in Latin, "Too much pain. The body can't sustain it, not awake."

"But he'll make it through, right?" Magnus asked, standing to face the gladiator properly.

"I'm no healer," Jace answered, shrugging, "The wounds are deep. Listen..."

The blond man stepped closer to Magnus, who only had the time to catch Ragnor's worried glance by the entrance before a strong hand pulled him in by the neck, so that Jace could whisper in his ear.

"The Greek can't fight tomorrow. A gladiator not fighting is useless. A slave? He's dead."

Magnus' eyes widened as he understood what Jace was trying to tell him. Casting a fearful glance at Alexander's sleeping form, looking so vulnerable like that, Magnus felt his resolve grow stronger. He wouldn't let anything happen to Alexander. Not anymore.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Magnus broke free of Jace's grasp and stormed out of the tiny room, striding towards the exit. Ragnor followed up without a word, until they were out in the street once more.

"What did he tell you?" he asked.

"He implied that Alexander might as well be killed if he doesn't fight tomorrow," Magnus revealed, his shoulders slumping under a heavy burden, the responsibility of making sure that the man he loved would live to see another day. "I'm also pretty sure that Lorenzo would put him back in the games in a heartbeat if he could. Alexander wouldn't last more than ten seconds and then, both he and my father would be really happy."

"What do you suggest?" Ragnor asked again, before he added with a snort, "You don't look like a man who's ready to see his lover die."

"I'm not and I won't," Magnus answered, his voice firm. "There are two guards in front of Alexander's room, plus the one at the entrance of the _Ludus_. We can't fight them or we'll have all of Rome's guards against us. What's another powerful mean of getting what you want?"

"Uh... Money?" Ragnor told him with hesitation, not sure to follow.

"Exactly," Magnus confirmed with a nod. "We need enough money to buy the silence of three guards, a transport out of Rome and a bunch of other things. Alexander won't survive a third day, Ragnor. We're breaking him out. Tonight."

"By the gods," his friend laughed nervously, "You're insane. Where will you find that much money, Magnus?"

"Oh, trust me. I have a plan."

  


  


According to Ragnor, it was a stupid plan. Magnus had been offended when his friend told him as much, although now that he was creeping into his father's house at night like a thief, it did indeed feel like a foolish idea. Where else could he find enough money to corrupt the guards, though? Not to mention that if he succeeded, saving Alexander, the slave whom his father wanted dead, with Asmodeus' own money would be his greatest and most ironic accomplishment.

Tiptoeing across the atrium in the dark wasn't such an easy task and Magnus nearly ended up falling into the _impluvium_ in the middle of the room that collected the rains from the roof. Catching his balance right before he could wake up the whole house by splashing water everywhere, Magnus hurried up and ran toward his father's office.

Thank Mercury, it was way easier to find the chest where Asmodeus kept part of the family's fortune and he made a quick job of filling four different pouches with coins, as silently as he could. Once satisfied with the amount and just a bit worried, hoping it would be enough to persuade the guards to let him through, Magnus turned around - and almost dropped the purses in his shock.

"Father!" he squeaked in surprise when he saw Asmodeus, his figure lit up by the oil lamp he was holding in his free hand, standing in the doorway.

"Magnus," the man answered, his sickly-sweet voice making his son shudder. "So nice of you to come back home."

"Only for a moment," Magnus answered, wondering if it was too late to hide the pouches behind his back, "I'm leaving in a second."

"With something that doesn't belong to you," Asmodeus pointed out, using his can to gesture at his son's hands.

Alright. Too late, then.

"I'll take this as my inheritance," Magnus answered, forcing out a smile, trying to make his father think that he felt completely comfortable being there, facing him, when he wasn't. "That is all I will take. I'm leaving Rome."

"With Alec, I presume?" Asmodeus snorted, not waiting for the confirmation he didn't need before he added, "You are making a mistake, son. You have a bright future waiting for you here, a career in politics, business deals, everything you want."

"That's not what I want, father," Magnus said softly, "This is what _you_ want for me."

"And what do you want, then?" the older man laughed, "Alec? Please. I was at the games, Magnus. He is going to die."

"Then he'll die as a free man," Magnus shot back, too stubborn for his own good, fighting to keep himself in check as he finally faced that horrible possibility. "If he has to die, he'll die in the arms of someone who loves him. Because I love him, father, I do! I'm willing to sacrifice everything I have, everything I _could_ have, for him. Your world of politics and wealth doesn't matter to me, not if this is a world where I can't have Alexander."

Asmodeus remained quiet, his index tapping lightly on his cane as he stared at his son for a long, long time. Magnus couldn't read his expression and he had no idea what was going on in his father's mind... He couldn't afford to wait to find out though: Alexander needed his help as soon as possible.

"Perhaps," Asmodeus said at the same time as Magnus decided to ignore his father and leave the house, "You do know what love is after all. Your mother would have been proud of you."

Dumbfounded, Magnus could only gape as he watched his father turn around and walk away, leaning heavily on his cane - more than Magnus remembered him ever do. He couldn't believe it. Was Asmodeus truly ready to let him go like this, when he knew exactly what his plans for the future were? Maybe. He barely cared: he wasn't going to linger in this house that wasn't his anymore while Alexander's life was hanging by a fragile thread.

So Magnus ran. He ran out of the house, out of his old life, refusing to dwell on all the memories he had made there with his mother, with Alexander, even with his father, in happier times. He would make sure to create new memories for Alexander and him to cherish once they would be in a safe place, away from Rome's dangers.

He darted through the streets, taking turns left and right, until he arrived almost breathless at the _Ludus magnus_. The pouches felt heavy in his hands and he actually looked forward to give them away, for it would mean Alexander and he were getting closer and closer to freedom. His steps slowed down just a little when he realised that Ragnor wasn't there.

That... didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't mean that he should wait. Ragnor had promised that he would be there on time, read: when he walked out with Alexander. So he would be there. He had to.

Bracing himself, Magnus walked up to the entrance, where he was surprised not to find the short man he had met before, but a taller guard who watched him approach with piercing eyes.

"Well?" he said before Magnus could open his mouth. "What are you here for?"

"Business," the young man answered, wondering whether this new guy would make it harder or easier to enter but most importantly, to get out.

"What kind of business?" the guard pried.

Magnus smiled at the question and lifted one of the pouches, shaking it lightly. He didn't miss the spark of interest that flashed through the guard's eyes when he heard the coins clanging together.

"This is the kind of business that can get you a reward," Magnus eventually said, clenching his hand around the purse and bringing it back to his side, "That is, if you let me in and then out, no question asked."

The guard bit his lip, glancing from one side to the other, between the hard bricks of the building and Magnus' hand that was still wrapped around the entrancing pouch. At the twitching of his fingers, Magnus knew what the man's decision would be.

"Deal," the guard whispered, as if he was scared that someone would hear him. "Get in. Be quick."

Oh, Magnus didn't need to be told twice. It only took him a few seconds to find Alexander's room, following the same path he and Ragnor had walked on earlier that day, and soon he was in front of the two men guarding the entrance. To what use, though? He hadn't taken the time to think about it before but... Why put two men to guard a wounded slave? After all, Alexander didn't have the strength to stand up on his own and run away... A more sinister thought made its way into Magnus' mind: what if they were there to kill Alexander once they were given the order?

When they saw him, the guards brought their right hand to their sword in twin moves that didn't make Magnus feel confident at all.

"Easy, there," he told them on what he hoped was a placating tone. "I'm not armed."

Which was perhaps a big mistake, he realised as one of the men marched toward him, looking awfully threatening.

"You shouldn't be here," he growled.

"Right," Magnus muttered, a nervous laugh fleeing his throat before he started to babble, "Uh... It's late, don't you think? Brings your nerves up, haha... I'm sure you'd feel much more relaxed in a tavern or something. You know what, have a drink on me!"

The young man threw two of his pouches to the guards, who didn't bat an eyelid and stared as they fell to the ground with a metallic thud. Then, they drew their swords.

"You shouldn't be here," the first one repeated, taking one more step toward Magnus, who felt himself freeze.

He was done for. He closed his eyes. _I'm so sorry, Alexander_...

"You should listen to him," another voice suddenly said, coming from behind Magnus.

Turning his head, he opened wide eyes when he saw Jace coming out of the shadows, one sword in each hand, his expression severe and his eyes set on the guards, who took an involuntary step backward.

" _Germanus_ ," one of them growled, "What is this?"

"Backup," he merely explained with that slow drawl of his. "You know me. You know how I fight. You should take that money."

Heart beating fast, Magnus wiped his damp hands on his tunic while the guards glanced at each other, then at Jace, before they nodded. They quickly picked up the pouches at their feet and walked away, shoulders slumping with the shame of their corruption, although they also looked glad to still be alive.

"Thank you," he whispered to Jace, "You have perfect timing."

The gladiator didn't answer but instead, he jerked his head to the side, to Alexander's cell, to remind him of his mission - as if Magnus could forget the reason why he was there. When he entered the small room, dread and relief mixed together in his heart: Alexander was whining in his sleep, clearly suffering, but at least he was still alive.

"I'm here, love," Magnus whispered, holding the young man's hand, "I'm getting you out of here."

"Quick," Jace reminded him as he slipped his swords in the scabbards hanging on each side of his hips, before he grabbed Alexander's left arm and put it across his shoulders, half-hoisting him up. "Like this."

Magnus nodded and did the same on his friend's right side. On Jace's signal, they lifted the unconscious slave off the bed, carrying him outside. It broke Magnus' heart to hear Alexander's soft cries as they moved, to see him open bleary, delirious eyes and struggle to keep them open, to feel him lean a bit more toward him in gratitude, to see his clumsy attempts at moving his legs to help Jace and him.

"It's alright," Magnus whispered in his ear, "It's alright, Alexander, we've got you. We're leaving. It's alright, my love..."

He tried not to panic when Alexander, too weak to stay awake for long, blacked out again, but he moved faster, forcing Jace to quicken his pace as well. When they reached the exit, the guard who had been quite easy to corrupt raised his brows at the sight the three of them made.

"I thought you'd be alone," he pointed out hesitantly.

"I said no questions," Magnus reminded him, before he handed the man the promised money. "Can I count on your silence?"

"Of course," the guard answered, already glancing at the coins inside the small purse.

"I'm not going farther," Jace told him quietly then, carefully slipping under Alexander's arm, making sure that Magnus was still holding him and that he wouldn't keel over under the added weight.

"Alright," Magnus answered, tightening his embrace around his friend. "Thank you, for what you did."

"I didn't do it for you," Jace said with an infuriating shrug, before he glanced at Alexander. "He doesn't belong to the arena. Take care."

 _Of him, of yourselves_ , he didn't say. He simply turned around and went back inside the _Ludus magnus_ , which was perhaps the only place where _he_ felt like he belonged. Magnus didn't know his story.

Refocusing on Alexander and on his task, the young man took careful steps forward. He was moving at a slower pace now that he was on his own to support Alexander's weight and the moon hiding behind thick clouds didn't make it any easier for him: he could barely see his feet in the darkness of the night and he tripped several times on ill-placed stones.

"Ragnor, where are you?" he muttered to himself, glancing everywhere.

Now was not the time to be late! Or... Oh no. What if Ragnor had gotten into trouble? What if Lorenzo had done something to him or worse, his father? Asmodeus had let him go but Magnus didn't doubt that he would feel comfortable doing so to make him believe they were safe, only to trap him later on.

"Magnus!" a whispered call caught his attention even as his anxiety rocketed, "Over here!"

He nearly cried in relief at the sight of a donkey-drawn chariot partly hidden under one arch of the Coliseum, where Ragnor was waving at him.

"They're here, Alexander," he told his friend, albeit knowing that he couldn't hear him. "See, everything is fine... Ragnor, help me!"

The other man quickly joined forces with him to carry Alexander to the chariot and they carefully laid him down at the back, where two more men were waiting for them. One looked like nothing could surprise him, not even a slave with bloody bandages around his chest escaping in the middle of the night, while the other immediately reached for Alexander with a concerned expression on his face.

"Who are you?" Magnus asked none too gently before the man could touch his friend, putting himself between the strangers and Alexander.

"Magnus," Ragnor chided him with a roll of his eyes at the display of so little trust, before he pointed at each man one after the other. "This is Raphael, who owns this chariot, and this is Simon. He's a healer."

Magnus had never sprung away from Alexander so fast in his life.

"Can you heal him?" he asked Simon while Raphael took his seat at the front to guide the two donkeys.

"Healing takes time," Simon answered softly as he touched Alexander's forehead, noting the worrying pallor of his face, his weak breathing, his burning skin, and then he started to unwrap the bandages to take a closer look at his wounds. "I will do my best but the fight is his. Raphael and I own a small place, two hours away from Rome. A longer journey would kill your friend, so you are welcome to stay there until he heals completely."

"Thank you," Magnus whispered, overwhelmed by gratitude at this stranger's compassion and kindness, "Thank you so much..."

Simon smiled at him, warmth in his eyes, and then he refocused on Alexander as the chariot started to move forward. Magnus could barely believe that they'd made it, that they were leaving, together, although not entirely unharmed. Simon had only spoken of healing though, not of any darker, sadder destiny, so Magnus decided to trust his judgement.

As they left Rome through the _Porta Appia_ , following the _Via Appia_ that would lead them Southward and to a better life, the moon finally started to shine.

  


  


  


Early morning. Silence covered the wise city of Athens like soft and comfortable linen sheets did a sleeping body, and as he walked down the cobbled streets of Pláka, Magnus relished into the quietness of the city. It felt so much like the last day of his stay at Athens one year prior, when he had come to study and had left with more knowledge than he expected, as well as open eyes and strengthened feelings for Alexander.

Yet, it also felt completely different.

Turning to his right with a smile on his face, Magnus stared at his lover as he watched the sun rise above the Parthenon, painting the sky orange and pink, turning Alexander's dark hair the colour of a bright fire.

"This is quite the sight," the young man whispered, his hand squeezing Magnus' gently.

"Indeed," the other answered, although he hadn't glanced at the sky once but had kept his eyes trained on his lover's silhouette.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," Alexander said softly, turning toward his companion. "It still feels like a dream sometimes..."

Magnus laughed and leaned in to give Alexander a cheerful kiss, although his gaze turned deadly serious when he raised his hand and splayed his fingers across his lover's chest, right above the three scars he knew where hidden under the light fabric of his _chiton_.

"This felt real enough," Magnus whispered. "You went through so much. You deserve to have this."

He meant this new life, a life of peace and simplicity, for selling olives in Athens wasn't the most lucrative business, but Alexander had eyes for him only.

"I love you," he told him the same way he had told him the first time, on a soft voice that was also intense, so much that Magnus could feel warmth run through his veins and fill his chest with overwhelming emotion.

This declaration only lacked, thankfully, the same exhausted tone of the first one. Alexander had heard his desperate command, back in that narrow room at the _Ludus magnus_ , not to say these three magical words before he felt better and they were happy. Apparently, this all amounted to being out of Rome and not completely dead, for the young man had croaked out his first _I love you_ as soon as Simon and Raphael had laid him down on a bed in their house - before promptly collapsing and losing consciousness again.

For long, forlorn days, Magnus had been a mess. Hovering in the background and oozing nervousness as Simon checked on Alexander hour after hour, day after day, pestering him for updates on his condition even when the poor healer could say no more than _he needs time_ , panicking when the fever rose too much, freaking out when Alexander's forehead felt too cold to the touch to be normal... He had been insufferable, he knew that.

Somehow though, Simon had persuaded Raphael not to kick him out for the whole duration of Alexander's convalescence. Magnus had done his best to calm down - and stay calm - but more than once, he had knelt next to the bed and cried while holding one of Alexander's limp hands, until he passed out from exhaustion. He slept then, spent nights filled with nightmares, before Alexander's moans of pain woke him up.

Until one day, he had been roused from his fitful sleep by a gentle hand running through his hair. When he'd lifted his head, surprised and hopeful, Magnus had met gorgeous eyes from which the veil of delirium had vanished, leaving only clarity and love. He hadn't fetched Simon first thing in the morning that day. He'd changed the dressing of Alexander's wounds himself, having observed the healer do it enough times to be able to copy his gestures, and he had kissed Alexander's hand over and over again between his tears, until the young man had heaved a frustrated sigh and had grabbed the collar of his tunic to bring Magnus' mouth to his own.

The months after that had been dedicated to the painstakingly slow process of healing a body who had suffered too much, not only physical wounds. Alexander had lost weight because of the fever and sickness that had gnawed at him for days and he had slowly started to eat again, although nothing much at first, and then on to waking up his muscles - and even later, walking with Magnus' support.

Alexander had been extremely lucky, they both knew that, and they had been through so much together that it had changed their way of understanding life. They had discussed their possible futures for hours, on their own but also with Raphael and Simon, who had turned into friends, as well as Ragnor, and in the end... They had settled on going to Athens.

They wanted to enjoy their life, live every day to the fullest, as if it could be their last, and Magnus had fulfilled Alexander's wish to see his fathers' lands, where they indulged into the simple pleasures of life as often as they could.

"I love you too," Magnus whispered, dropping a kiss on Alexander's cheek. " _That_ , you think you can get used to?"

"No," Alexander answered with a charming smile that left Magnus gasping for breath, "And I don't want to. I want your words to keep making my heart beat faster and I want to keep surprising you, every day, and I want to think, every time I look at you, _how did I get lucky enough to have such an amazing man in my life?_ The only thing I might eventually get used to is Athens... I think it will be a good place to grow old together."

"By the gods," Magnus breathed out, his eyelids fluttering to hold back a few tears of emotion, "I love you so much."

He didn't resist pulling Alexander into another kiss, brushing his lips against his companion's before the young man pressed up closer against him in his eagerness to kiss him deeper, and Magnus happily looped his arms around Alexander's neck. His lover was right: Magnus didn't want to get used to this either. He never wanted the sparks in his veins or the joy that filled his heart at Alexander's lightest touch to fade, snuffed by time and routine. They would make the best out of this new life and that was a promise Magnus was more than willing to keep, for Alexander and him.

Hand in hand, Magnus and Alexander walked down the quiet, deserted street as Helios started to rise higher above their heads, like a blessing illuminating the path of their future.

  


  


  


  


A few notes of explanation:

\- Pláka = the old historical (and beautiful) neighbourhood of Athens, close to the Acropolis.

\- Helios = Greek god of the sun, sometimes used to speak of the sun itself.

\- Jupiter/Zeus = Latin and Greek name of the king of gods and men, ruler of the sky.

\- Agora = public place for political discussions and commercial activities, equivalent of the Latin _forum_.

\- Acropolis = literally _the high city_ , it is the highest part of a city, usually with temples and shrines.

\- Parthenon = the Athenian temple of the goddess Athena, located on the Acropolis.

\- Patria = Latin word meaning _patria_ ; the notion of patria was really important and a proper Roman had to show his _pietas_ : respect to the gods, the family and the patria.

\- Brindisi = city of southern Italy, from which boats to Greece left; the Latin poet Virgil (whom I love with my whole heart) died there.

\- Plato and Socrates = two Greek philosophers; Plato was Socrates' follower. Socrates was the first Greek philosopher to concern himself with men and not just explanations of the world's origins and all.

\- The horologion of Andronicus = clock tower on the Agora of Athens, possibly built by Andronicus, hence the name.

\- Aphrodite and Eros = Goddess of love and her son, Aphrodite is sometimes considered the goddess of romantic feelings and Eros, the god of physical love.

\- Matrona = Latin word used to speak of a married woman.

\- Toga virilis = piece of clothing received by a Roman citizen coming of age (around seventeen).

\- Domus = house.

\- Impluvium = a square or rectangular sunken part of the central room of a house, collecting the rains falling from the roof (with a similar opening).

\- Peristyle = rows of columns forming a porch around a garden.

\- Caryatides = located on the Acropolis, they are columns in the shape of young women. The ones currently on the Acropolis are a copy, as the originals were too damaged by pollution. They are now in the Acropolis Museum in Athens.

\- Dominus = master, term first used to speak of the owner of a slave. _Domine_ is the vocative, used to call someone.

\- Cicero = famous orator who didn't know where to stop his sentences and who has probably influenced me too much.

\- Alcibiades = Athenian general. Well, it's complicated, he betrayed Athens a few times (but still, Athenian general) also deeply in love with Socrates.

\- Alexander the Great and Hephaestion = I am weak for these two! Hephaestion was Alexander's lover. Alexander died precisely six months after Hephaestion and several ancient authors agree to think he died mostly of grief. I'm an emotional mess.

\- Venus, joy of men and gods alike = Venus is the Latin equivalent of Aphrodite. The rest of the sentence is used by the poet Lucretius in his hymn to Venus at the beginning of his work _De rerum natura_.

\- Insula (plural, insulae) = Latin word meaning _house_ but different from the _domus_ : it refers to buildings of sorts, much like an apartment complex.

\- Ostia = city on the west coast, close to Rome, with an important port.

\- Urban cohort = sort of policemen and fire-fighters of Rome.

\- Venus, mother of the Roman line = again, a line from Lucretius: according to the legends, Venus was the mother of Aeneas, Trojan prince who ran from the city in flames, travelled a lot, got into trouble a lot, then arrived in Italy, got into some more trouble, and then his great-great-great-grandkids founded Rome.

\- Tullianum = a prison close to the forum. Don't go there. You'll die (ask Catilina's friends!)

\- Gauls = people from Gaul, present day France, Belgium, northern Italy, Luxembourg, bits of Germany, Switzerland. They were everywhere. After the Roman conquest, they were included in the legions (as well as the Germans), mostly in cavalry units.

\- Britain = ancient name encompassing England and Wales (bits of Scotland too, at times, when its people weren't kicking Roman asses).

\- Apollo = god of sunlight, arts, handsome fellow.

\- Death of gladiators = contrarily to popular belief, gladiators fights didn't always end by the death of one. August even forbade execution at some point. Besides, gladiators didn't come cheap, so the _lanistae_ (trainers and people in charge of the gladiators) avoided replacing them too often by keeping them alive, as much as they could.

\- Stoics and stoicism = philosophers and philosophy. Your fate has already been decided and if you want to be happy, you'd better welcome everything that comes your way with a smile. Kind of.

\- Gladius = short sword.

\- Mars = god of war and fights, much more noble and respected than his Greek equivalent Ares, who's a bit of a bloodthirsty asshole.

\- Ludus magnus = school for gladiators, where they were trained, ate, slept, healed, etc. The healers working there were some of the best, since the gladiators needed to heal well to keep fighting (again, money issue!)

\- Wine = the Greeks and the Romans drank their wine mixed with water, drinking pure wine was considered a barbarian thing to do (on that point, _barbarian_ simply meant _he who does not speak Greek_ at first.)

\- Nicknames in the arena = Alec is called _the Greek_ and Jace, _Germanus_ (The German); nicknames for the popular gladiators were common and could refer either to their ethnic origins or their fighting skills.

\- Pluto = god of the dead and the underworld.

\- Retiarius = gladiator who fought with a trident and a net, in an imitation of a fisherman.

\- Mercury = god of travels, including travels to the underworld, also god of trade and thievery.

\- Mitte = meaning _send_ , this word was used to save a gladiator asking for mercy, to send him out of the arena. _Iugula_ (the throat) was used to ask for the death of the gladiator.

\- Porta and Via Appia = a gate and a road of the same name leading south and to Brindisi.

\- Chiton = a piece of clothing worn in ancient Greek by men and women alike, akin to a tunic.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading! This was a monster to write so I really hope you liked it ^^ Feel free to share your opinion in the comments, it would be really nice and I'd love to know what you thought! Until next time!


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